


The Swan Captain

by sleeperservice



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Humor, Minnesota Wild, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 16:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13815276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeperservice/pseuds/sleeperservice
Summary: Mikko gets a feathery surprise on Halloween, which the team didn't need. Scratched with an upper body injury (wings, injured pride, and damaged dignity all count,) his teammates and opponents try to help him out.





	The Swan Captain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nadler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadler/gifts).



Mikko wasn't even able to get on the ice for morning skate. It was a good thing it was optional that day. His back had been bothering him for several weeks now but in the past few days the problem had progressed to the point where it was starting to affect other things. He was having trouble with his shoulders now, and with his history of shoulder injuries it was not a good sign. His shoulder blades were hot and felt lumpy. He hadn't been able to sleep on his back at all for at least a week because it was too painful. The main reason he had stayed out of the skate that morning was that it was painful to even put his equipment on, as it had been during the practice the day before. If he had been honest with himself, he should have done something about it before Saturday's game or Sunday's practice; but after his performance in the game, he felt like it wasn't a big deal.

That was a lie; it was feeling now like an immense deal.

He went to the trainer's room. "Can you take a look at my upper back? It hurts like hell and I don't know if it's just that I'm tight or if something else is going on there."

The trainer shook his head as he looked. "I'm definitely not liking what I'm seeing. Go lay down on the table, so I can see if those bumps go away if you're not standing up. It looks like you're growing a hump back there."

"That is what it's been feeling like," Mikko said as he positioned himself on the table. "I didn't think it was anything, but my shoulders also hurt now and I can't ignore it."

"Of course, like all you guys, you let it sit for too long. We keep telling you we want to keep you on the ice. Come to us with the problems sooner than later, especially when we had so many off-days."

Mikko snorted. "It's only a problem to us at the time we can't play. I know! I know! It's just hard to remember."

"No, you ignore us because we tell you what you don't want to hear."

"I heard all right, but with Zach and Granny out to start, and then everyone else injured, you think I want to be out? This early? No...ow!"

"I just touched those bumps. Didn't even poke or press. Just wait until I poke. I'll tell you."

"Fuck! What are you doing back there? Sticking knives in?"

The trainer backed away from the table. "I wasn't even touching you then! It was just air passing over."

"That's hard air." Mikko gritted his teeth. "Why does it hurt so fucking much?"

"I think this is above my pay grade here. We need to get a doctor on it."

"Looking at it. You get someone on it, I probably scream the walls down."

"I can't imagine you screaming, with all the other crap you've been through in here."

Mikko began screaming, though, loudly and shrilly like a gasping waterfowl, as he felt something burst from his shoulder blades in an explosion of pain. After that, the pain was suddenly gone, but his back felt like it was twitching. There was something new there that he could feel and move.

"What happened there?" he asked the trainer.

The trainer answered back in a too-calm voice. "You seem to have a pair of wings. Very wet white ones, as long as your arms."

"You're kidding, right?" He twitched his back again and felt air move.

"No. Let me take this towel and dry them off. I'll be gentle."

He felt something soft touch what felt like his arms, only doubled somehow. The sensation felt nice and relaxing.

"There you go. All dry. They look like Canada goose wings, but they're all white. Swan, maybe?"

"Wings. You say you are not kidding me?" Mikko made whatever it was on his twitching back flap and felt much more air this time. "I think I need to see me in a mirror or in a selfie camera or something."

The trainer handed him a phone. "Here you go. Take a look."

He looked at himself in the phone camera. There were obviously wings behind him, but it was Halloween and someone could have been pranking him by sticking props on his back in his moment of painful distress. One never knew. He controlled the new muscles on his shoulder blades; the wings on his back flapped in accordance with his commands. If they were a second set of arms, they should move like one, he thought. He moved the right second elbow and the wing arched; he spread the left second hand and the tip of that wing moved. Those wings indeed were real, not a prank, and his to deal with.

Mikko sighed. "I guess I'm out for tonight."

"An upper body injury."

"More of an alteration, I suppose." Mikko handed the phone back and raised himself carefully from the table. "As much as I would try to play tonight, these wings make tempting targets; but...."

"You can’t possibly even think about it!"

"Can I skate? Can I control my stick? Of course I am thinking about it. We're going to have to roll with seven D tonight, and Olofsson hasn't been practicing at forward."

The trainer shook his head. "It's not happening. Ever. How the hell did this even happen in the first place? People just...don't grow wings all of a sudden."

"I think it probably took a month. Not sudden." Mikko smiled but did not receive a smile in return.

"I think you're in shock. I think I'm in shock."

Mikko shrugged; his wings made a corresponding shrug. "It is what it is. Now I need to work out what to do about it." He headed off in the direction of the locker room.

 

Mikko considered that the trainer was indeed correct and he just may have been in a state of shock. He was walking around the place without a shirt on, and he was shivering with cold or perhaps fluid loss or residual pain. Walking was weird. He had folded his wings behind him; there wasn't enough room in there for him to be flapping all over. He wanted to, though. He felt like he wanted to fly. There had to be something around for him to cover up with, a blanket or something. He should have went back to the trainer but his mind was racing a mile a minute.

He wandered into the locker room instead, right into his teammates waiting for a meeting to start. They all turned to stare at him in horrified silence.

Dubnyk had to be the one to break it. "Mikko, what the fuck are you wearing? This isn't the time or place for costumes. You have to set an example."

Mikko scrunched his eyes shut in thought. He knew their goalie was joking around with him, but he wasn't in any state of mind to joke back. Much. "I'm not wearing anything. That is the problem. I'm so cold."

"Well, of course you are, you're in here half-naked. That's not like you."

"No, it's not." Mikko unfolded his wings and fluffed the feathers up. He folded them over his arms. That was much better and a little bit warmer.

"Did you have some sort of robot prop made?" Zucks looked very intrigued by the wings. "That's outstanding. I didn't even realize you did Halloween."

Mikko shook his head. "I don't do Halloween. Not like a lot of you do. Only when you make me."

"Then what's up with the wings?"

"I don't know! It just...happened to me."

Granny had come up next to Mikko and started touching the feathers. "I don't think this is a costume, guys. They're warm."

Mikko dropped his head and looked down. "It's not. It's part of me and I don't know what to do tonight. I want to play, but I don't think I can."

The team collectively shook their heads in agreement. A few looked a bit thoughtful, as if they were trying to work out how to fit a uniform over the wings. Everyone knew the team was short players.

"Hey, let's get it together!" Dubs clapped his hands. "Does anyone have any idea of how something like this could happen? I've seen a lot of weird things in hockey, but I've never seen a winged player."

"I've seen dudes with wings before!" Nino yelled.

"Where, man." Dubs shook his head.

"All right, it was just one. And it was in Portland."

"Well, _Portland_ , of course it was."

Someone else chirped, "You ever seen Portlandia? They put a bird on everything."

All the talk was giving Mikko a headache. He put his hand on his forehead. He felt like crying, mostly due to stress. They weren't coming any closer to a solution, he wasn't playing, and there was no good way of hiding what was going on. The press would be on them soon. "Can any of you come up with a way to help me? It happened, I cannot change it. But for now, I need to hide it."

Al was normally quiet during the meetings. He was thoughtful this time. "Since everyone in here thought it was a costume, maybe we should, you know, just make you a costume? I know it's Halloween and it's really late, but we could maybe get the stuff together to make you an angel costume or something like that. There's a costume shop on Robert Street and if they don't have it, I'll just hit the rest of the stores with costume parts and fabric. I know, you're supposed to wear a suit if you're scratched, but you'd probably just take the fine instead of the embarrassment. At least it's, you know, Halloween."

"I'll go with you," Dubs said. "We won't get much time. And you're starting, you should relax before the game."

"I have to go with. None of you people know how to get around West St. Paul, even if you just drive up and down the same street."

"Great idea, guys. I trust you both," Mikko said.

That was the moment the coaching staff showed up. They did not look surprised when they saw Mikko. That was probably the reason the meeting hadn't started on time; they were probably being briefed by the trainers.

"So, Mikko, this swan thing, is that what explains your defense?" Bruce was red, but he also looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Well, you know, it takes big waterfowl a while to take off the lake to fly," Darby chimed in, "so that's also maybe why he's so slow."

"Nice, nice, even you are having your fun at my expense. I didn't mean for this to happen," Mikko grumbled.

"You can get the hell out of here, Mikko, and head for the trainer's room," Bruce said. "I told the press to clear out, the meeting's private, and they can get in here after we're done. And we've got the uniform people modifying your undershirts for wing holes so you can at least wear a shirt. I know you hate this."

"Thanks." Mikko flushed pink as he headed for the safety and privacy of the trainer's room. The meeting was about the game tonight, which he wasn't going to play in, and at least in there he could have a nap until Dubs and Al showed up with their costume parts.

 

Mikko woke up to Granny stroking the top of his left wing. It felt really nice.

"The goalies are back with the costume parts. A bit of it is being sewn up right now. And your regular shirt is ready. I can help you get it on. It buttons in the back. Did you have a nice nap?"

"I did, yes. I was dreaming that I was flying. And then I come back to this, and you chattering my ear off."

"I was just hoping you were all right. I don't know how this happened to you. Curses aren't real."

"Even if they were, why? Opponents? I'm not having the best month. I don't remember treating anyone else badly; just grumpily, but nothing that should cause offense. I haven't even been visibly angry at the drivers on 62 since last season."

Granny laughed. "I don't believe you with the drivers. I don't even like driving out there."

"Maybe just a little bit angry, but I didn't flip anyone off or anything."

"That sounds more like you. Now, everyone who shouldn't be here has cleared out. I stayed to make sure you were all right."

"That was very kind. Thank you. You're returning my favor. I know I have felt very protective of you," Mikko said. "I suppose you're like my little cygnet. I probably won't stop it until you leave the nest."

"Always under your wing," Granny responded. "Despite me not being _on_ your wing."

"I couldn't protect you when you were centering another line!"

"I know. But you want to protect all of us who came up after you were named captain. I've noticed it. Not so much with the players who have come from other teams, but anyone who's come up mostly through the Wild system."

Mikko nodded. "I think you're correct. And even some of the smaller players, and older players. I wasn't around when Zach hatched, if you want to extend that metaphor, but I really don't like it when other teams hurt him."

"Or Zucks, or me."

"Especially you, yes. But I think, this year, you are ready to spread your own wings and fly. I know it was bad when you missed all that time, but you are back, and feeling better, and now is the time to score." Mikko stood up, and let Granny dress him. The shirt felt weird, but at least it was a shirt. The question was going to be what he would wear the next day, and the next day, and the next...Mikko needed to find out what to do about this in the long term.

 

Once Mikko was dressed, he had the confidence to go out and take a look at whatever odd bits his teammates had dredged up on their costuming expedition. His low expectations had indeed been met. There were several small bags from a few different stores. He couldn't see anything resembling a costume.

"We've got a costume being sewn up right now," Al said.

Dubs nodded. "It's more like a sheet with ties, but close enough. It will go right over what you're currently wearing."

"What else do you have?" Mikko asked.

"Not much. It was exactly as we thought. There was a little bit of everything, but we had to go everywhere." Al took out a wire crown with some plastic bits that looked like crystals and a few containers of makeup. "We decided against angels and went to more of a Swan Lake-type theme."

"That's because everywhere was out of halos that didn't look silly, and I just know the look on your face if we showed up with a sexy angel costume." Dubs looked apologetic.

"They are for a different sort of sexy than I am," Mikko said.

"At least you can feel good about yourself right now."

"I feel good about myself all the time. Most of the time." Mikko looked at the blue sparkly thing Al was bringing in. "Except if I have to wear that. It is not see-through, that is the most good I can say about it."

"Beggars on October thirty-first can't be choosers for the most part. Here, just put it over your head, there's some ties and it shouldn't hit your wings."

Mikko put it on. He was not happy about it, but at least it was a Halloween costume. All costumes looked ridiculous to him. It didn't matter. At least it would deflect questions about the wings. The quickie sparkly makeup job, done with a stick of something that made his face look slightly blue and glowing, wasn't the worst thing he had worn on his face for a costume. The ice queen crown wasn't the worst headpiece. He couldn't complain that much, and his goalie buddies had at least _tried_. "Thanks. This should keep me the rest of the night."

"It's the least we could do for keeping us company on the bench."

 

Mikko, now fully costumed, wondered where Granny had wandered off to while he was busy with being transformed into some sort of ice angel-swan composite. He could hear familiar voices coming down the hall. Granny was trying his hardest not to let the Jets at the door in, but it was probably going to fail. It was Patrik Laine out there, for sure, and he was very insistent. The other, less insistent voice was confusedly speaking English, so it was probably Nikolaj Ehlers. _Where you find one, you usually find the other_ , Mikko thought, _and I guess it is time for them to find me._ He walked to the entrance to the locker room, tucking his wings as close to his body as he possibly could. Maybe they'd see him clearly enough to notice. Maybe they wouldn't.

"I hear you out there harassing poor Granny," Mikko said in English for Ehlers's benefit. "I think he told you I wasn't in the mood for invaders from the north today."

"They all say you are an old grouch and maybe we should ignore you," Patrik replied. "You need some young people around to keep you full of energy."

"We've got Kunin, that's enough teenagers." Mikko was trying hard not to laugh. "And you probably heard about the injury. I don't think you two can help that."

"We did! And Pat, he thinks we can make you feel better." Ehlers was carrying a black soft-sided case.

Granny poked at the case. "You didn't bring a gaming console over here, did you?"

"Of course we did. What's the English saying, something about dogs and tricks?"

"It has 'old' in it. And you think I can be gaming in the press box?"

"No! Before the game! We want to show you how to play!"

 _Oh, dear_ , thought Mikko. _Pat thinks that I have gaming ambitions. I doubt it's a Wii, like what Saku has at home for the kids._ "Pat, save your video games teaching for the offseason. You know where I live. I can't figure this PlayStation nonsense out in two hours."

Ehlers squinted. "What's that on your back?"

"Nik, are you blind? Those look like wings." Patrik was grinning. It made him look slightly unhinged. "Did you see my costume and get inspired?"

"How would I see your costume? Other than Granny showing me everything stupid he finds on his phone. Which he hasn't done, lately. No, this was my own idea."

"You doing Halloween is weird!" They all nodded at that statement, even Ehlers. His reputation as the Least Fun Person on Halloween had apparently preceded him.

"I am just a tiny bit injured and thus I thought I'd have a tiny bit of fun and bring some amusement to the press box tonight. Maybe the writers will ask about my costume and not about my shoulder."

Patrik frowned. "Is that's what's injured?"

"I did not say that. Only that it is a part that I have had problems with before, and you know how people assume." Everyone nodded at that.

"We've got to get ready for the game ourselves, so clear out. You can catch us playing football, you know, the usual." Granny made pushing gestures at the two Jets.

"We came to see Mikko, though. He doesn't do football."

"You've seen him, he is there, he's all right, so get."

They indeed left. Mikko felt warmed by Granny's defense of his privacy. "I'll also get out of your way and head off to the press box soon with the rest of our broken teammates."

"You're not broken. You are...added to?"

Mikko laughed and shook his head. "I suppose."

 

Mikko was glad that he had managed to stay out of the home press box for a long time. His healthy scratch the previous season was on the road, and the times he had missed games at home it had been because he had been so horribly sick that exposing other people to him would have been unthinkable. Being in there meant that something had gone wrong, and something had gone as wrong as it possibly could go. He wasn't playing. At least Chuckie and Ferraro were up there too because they were also experiencing things gone wrong. Mikko was lucky. He didn't have a broken leg or anything like that. He just had two wings that didn't belong.

The arena employees and writers were all looking at him as he entered the press box zone. His fellow players had been looking at him. Mikko saw one of the local writers approach. He glared at him. The guy backed off, but Mikko could see the flash of a phone camera go off behind him. He had no doubt the "costume" would show up on social media soon. He didn't feel like talking to anyone the Wild weren't paying that night. He didn't even feel like talking to the teammate portion of that. He carefully sat down between his teammates and plunked a box of popcorn in front of him. Mikko was somewhat irritated that they hadn't been supplied with Halloween candy. He was dressed in this weird costume that had every little kid he encountered on the way there staring at him and going "bird! bird!" and he wanted some recompense for it, like sugary bits that were very, very bad for him. He'd take the popcorn in a pinch, though. The two injured teammates next to Mikko were chattering to each other and ignoring the man in the middle. That was exactly how Mikko liked it. He relaxed at one point enough to notice that he had spread his wings and was trying to fold his teammates into them. He quickly put them back into the stationary decoy position. He hoped nobody else had seen it; but in the little booth they were in, there was little chance of that.

The game ended, a semi-solid 2-1 win for the Wild, and they headed back to the locker room. Mikko let the writers beat him there. He didn't want to talk about his injury or his costume and his glaring at them, including the curious Jets beats, scared them off.

Once he was back to the safety of the locker room, he grabbed his phone and went into the sanctity of the trainer's room. Mikko had received a lot of text messages during the game. That was unusual. Most of the people who texted him on a normal basis were playing in their own games or were asleep. One of the texts was from his brother. Why was Saku up watching this normal, bleh game that Mikko didn't even play in?

_Facetime mom and dad as soon as you see this. they are awake. there are things you need to know_

Who was he to ignore a message from his big brother? And what did he need to know? He opened the app and called his parents.

His mother came on the screen. "Mikko? Are you all right?"

"I don't know, Mom. These wings you see, they are not a costume, they are me, and I don't know what to do about it."

"Oh. We didn't think you'd ever need to know this, and from your surprised reaction your brother never told you."

"This does not sound good."

"I am so sorry that we never told you," his mother said. "It was the weirdest thing. Middle of February of '83, there was this woman wearing a cloak of swan feathers who came to our door. She was carrying this enormous egg. Even bigger than an ostrich egg, and a nice pearly grayish-white color. She gave the egg to me because she had seen us around the neighborhood and we looked trustworthy. She told me to keep it warm and let it hatch and keep it safe until she returned."

"A big egg. Did it hatch?"

"Of course it did. Twelfth of March, the shell started cracking, and out you came."

"Oh...no...how?"

"You cracked it with your beak." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. That's why we never showed you the pictures from when you were a newborn. We told you they didn't exist, but we have all sorts of Polaroids. You looked so funny covered in down, but it was so soft and fuzzy and cute. It took a while for it to fall out."

His father came back into the range of the camera. He was taking pictures out of a large box.

"Here's one," he said. "You were about two months old. See the feathers in your hair?"

"I do. So I am this weird swan-thing? Not yours?"

"Of course you're ours. You look just like your brother, goodness knows why." His mother smiled. "You know why he's so protective of you now, right? He was there when you hatched. He loved his fragile little brother who couldn't cry normally. You were so light then, you weighed almost nothing."

"Like...I was like a bird? Hollow bones, bird calls instead of baby noises, and a beak?"

"Well, yes, for a few months; but once the last feathers dropped, you were just a regular baby. You're ours in all the important ways."

His father had another box out. "That swan maiden still hasn't come back. Almost thirty-five years now. We kept you safe." He opened the box. "Look, we even saved your eggshell."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Nadler for reading this over and being so patient with waiting for this fic that I started working on in July of 2017. This was supposed to be a Halloween gift. It...didn't work out that way.
> 
> Edited on 4/2/18 because I realized I got the layout of the press box at the X incorrect; blame me having been in exactly four more MLB press boxes than NHL ones. (4-0 is 4....) That's your typical MLB configuration I had in mind and that is definitely not what's happening.


End file.
